Touch
by SwampTreader
Summary: Castiel learns his strength.


This form was... difficult to get used to. Castiel had learned that from the second he entered this vessel. Everything was a little darker, his vision was narrowed to a 20/20 field, things in the distance were nearly impossible to see. His sense of smell was _different_... his vessel sometimes became distracted for a split second if the scent of cooking meat was in the air. Before, in his true form, scent was merely a sense, a fact, a tool. It never pleased him to smell things, never made his mind pause. Things were very different in a human body. The strangest sensation was being able to feel his wings but not really _feeling _them. Touch was especially confusing.

Touch was probably the only sense that intensified when he took control over his vessel. He could feel the brush of his clothes on his skin, a breeze on his cheeks or an annoying itch every now and again, sometimes caused by a loose hair or fuzzy. But it was also a little more complicated than simply feeling things touch his body. Now he had to be very aware of his strength. Humans were not strong like angels and it was actually a bit strange when the angel part of him surpassed his human part (like lifting a car that one time at Bobby's so the cranky old coot could fix something). When Castiel had taken up watching TV he broke the first remote he touched. So he learned to be gentler and in doing so he felt a little more comfortable in his new skin (well not that he had skin before, per say. Angels were beings; spirits with no real container and- nevermind).

The angel and his two hunters found their time between catastrophes, disasters and overall crappiness, filled with mundane tasks. Well, at least that's what Castiel would call human life, mundane, at first at least.

It had taken nearly a year before Castiel observed a new and interesting personality trait in Sam Winchester.

He heard Sam return from outside, and upon the commotion that followed, Cas entered the living room to see what was amuck. "Sam, get that thing away from me," Dean warned.

"It's not going to hurt you-"

"I said get it away, Sam. Bobby! Sam brought home a stray!" Dean tattled, yelling to Bobby who was elsewhere in the house.

Cas's head tilted curiously and blinked slowly. He had taken note of many of the brother's routines, habits and opinions but he had not yet seen this facet of Dean and Sam's personalities. Sam held something near his belly, wrapped in his coat. From this spot in the room Cas couldn't see what he was holding but it was obviously causing Dean great distress. The older of the Winchester brothers was scowling and spouting off a list of reason why they couldn't keep it, whatever "It" was. It was in his personality to remain relatively quiet and observe his surroundings and the situation at hand and so he did so, until his curiosity finally won over logic.

"Sam? What are you holding?" He asked politely, interrupting the quarreling.

"Oh, it's a kitten." He lifted his hand and held in his palm and between his finger was a dirty little cat. It's white fur was grey and splotched with grease and for a moment Castiel understood why Dean did not like the little creature. But then it looked up and caught the Angel's eyes with it's own, black fur patching over one blue eye. It seemed to be looking right into his head. He drew back a little, unsure of what the appropriate response would be. It seemed harmless enough, and with a simple bath the small creature would be clean again. It mewed, drawing Castiel's attention back. He wondered why Dean was so adverse to the small animal. It must be because kittens were guilty of biting, or homicide or some other kind of evil behavior. Dean was usually never wrong about such things.

"Do they kill people?"

"What?" Both brothers asked at the same time, eyes snapping to Cas.

"Do they kill people?" He repeated, they must not have understood him the first time. Human hearing was like that.

"No, Cas. Does this look like it could kill a person?" Sam said thrusting the kitten in his hand towards Castiel. He shrugged.

"Why would you think that?" Dean chuckled, sitting back farther into the couch.

"You do not seem to like the creature, so there must be something dangerous about it," he replied matter-of-factly.

"No- Cas, it- nevermind," Dean grumbled taking a long drink of his beer. The angel stared at Dean for a moment. Humans were so strange. Suddenly there was something soft and squirming in his hands. He hurried to wrap his hands around the kitten before it fell. Sam smiled and then left the room. The cat mewed and looked up and him as though waiting for something. He took the animal over to the armchair and sat down. The small, fluffy creature found a string hanging from the seam of his trench coat and swatted at it.

"What are you doing, Cat?" Castiel asked. Of course, it didn't respond but started making an odd buzzing noise. "Dean, this kitten, it sounds like its overheating."

"It's purring. Means it likes you," he replied flipping through a magazine. The kitten continued swatting and batting at the string and then discovered his tie. Not wanting the cat to create a snag in the tie he reached down swiftly and grabbed the animal. It squeaked loudly in pain and the angel dropped the kitten immediately back into his lap. He felt bad for hurting it, he hadn't meant to. "I'm sorry," he apologized. The cat looked up at him as though expecting something, sitting on his leg, tail swishing back and forth. He was very gentle in his next movements, fearing he might harm the little creature. He touched the top of it's head with one finger, surprised to find that the kitten liked it as it began purring again. Castiel continued petting the cat, very aware of how much pressure he must apply. He scratched it behind the ears and down it's spine, smiling briefly when the kitten rolled onto it's side and batted at his fingers. As Castiel played with the kitten he wondered why Dean disliked it so much. "It's really quite a delightful creature, Dean," he said, almost smiling. Dean grunted and continued thumbing through his magazine. "Does it have a name?" He asked a few moments later. It was not unusual, he found, that humans liked to name their pets.

"No," Dean gruffed sternly.

"Why?"

"Because."

"That is not an adequate answer," Castiel replied gently.

"Because cats are just no!"

"Why?"

"You're like a blamed kindergartner, you know that right?" Dean hurumphed shutting the magazine and tossing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward to rest his weight on his knees. "We do _not _keep pets because they smell, they eat, they poop, they- they stink!"

"If I am not mistaken you are all of those things as well, but we keep you."

"Cas, if I knew it wouldn't break my hand I'd hit you right now." There was a long moment as Castiel stared at Dean blankly before the hunter spoke up again. "We're not keeping it," he grouched, snatching up the magazine again and falling back into the couch. "I hate cats," he mumbled to himself, although Castiel heard him.

Just then Bobby and Sam entered the living room. "Hey there's the little Grease Stain!" Bobby smiled affectionately as he spotted the kitten on Castiel's lap. Dean groaned exuberantly tossing the magazine aside. "What?" Bobby shrugged innocently. "He's good company."


End file.
